It was a year ago today Dave’s neurologist, Dr. Lachance,
gave us the results of the MRI. The tumor was next to the brain stem. Dr.
Lachance leaned back in his chair and asked, “What on God’s green earth are we
going to do about it?” He told us Dave had months not years. When I pressed
for a timeframe, he said there was no way of knowing, but he guessed six to 18
months. It was almost a year when Dave went home to be with the Lord.
When we told the kids, they cried and took turns hugging
their father. Dave said “Save your tears for when you need them, right now help
me celebrate life.” He was always so wise.
So that’s what we did, celebrated life together. We had
regular family meals. I made Dave’s favorite food that he hadn’t in years. In the
mornings we’d have coffee, listen to the birds outside and talk for hours.
Often I would take out my phone and record Dave as he told stories about his sand
lot life growing up. I am grateful for the recordings of him sharing how much he
loved our children and grandchildren.
Once Dave was on hospice and taking oral steroids, the
chronic pain he had from his spinal surgery in 2019 subsided to a manageable
level. He felt better than he had in years. We took drives. We spent time
sitting on our new deck that he hadn’t been able to enjoy the summer before. He
played with the grandkids and watched the Twins play with Landon. He began researching
craft beer. He and Paul made a batch. It took five weeks to complete, but Dave
was around to enjoy it. We weren’t sure he would be.
When friends came to hang out with us they said Dave looked good and
didn’t seem sick. They didn’t know how fatigued he was and that he slept through
much of the day. He saved his energy for the visits. He was affable, funny, and
caring.
The last few weeks were hard. He had trouble breathing. He
told me the day before he passed away, that the small things we had worked to
enjoy he was no longer enjoying. He died the next evening while I was getting
ready for an art sale. I felt that I had abandoned him that night. It was traumatizing
for both me and the kids that Dave was alone when he died. It wasn’t how we had
envisioned it. Our primary had told us early on that the good thing was when
Dave passed, he wouldn’t feel pain, it would be sudden. Dave wouldn’t know what
was happening, but I would. I have to believe it was God sparing me. I think Dave
would have wanted it that way.
I have joined the grief club, a club no one signs up to become a
member. I did not expect the grief and sorrow to be as raw, painful nor as
physical as it is. There is a stabbing in my heart, a heaviness in my stomach that
almost makes me feel nauseous. At times even my teeth hurt. The kids are also
surprised by how hard it’s been for them.
I am most comforted by talking with others who have lost
their spouses. They tell me it will get better, but the grief will still come
months and even years down the road. It never goes completely away.
Before Dave died I said (which now seems almost cavalier) I’d be okay. I'd travel, I'd paint, I'd be okay. I knew
I’d miss Dave. It was hard to imagine how it would be without his steady
presence. I didn’t factor in that I wouldn’t have any responsibilities after he
was gone. I went from retiring right into being Dave’s companion full-time. I
loved retirement because I loved being with Dave.
I try to stay busy and get out of the house during the day,
but at night when I return home it feels so empty, the quiet is deafening.
Everywhere I look I am reminded of David. Often friends call just when I am losing it, and they help me use up an hour or two before it’s time
for bed.
I am planning a few trips, but my daughter says I will still
need to learn to live alone. I’ve always felt I was
independent—sometimes it would drive Dave crazy. I’d forget to tell him where I
was going or when I’d be home. I never minded doing things on my own, but Dave
was always there to come home to.
I think about those old couples who lean on one another,
helping each other down the street. People say, “What a cute little old couple.”
We forget the couple no doubt had struggles and challenges through the years. Some days they probably didn't even like each other. But they stayed together, and in their old age they were inseparable. When one of them dies before the other, they lose a
large part of themselves.
I realize how rich Dave’s and our lives were. There were
many stresses, challenges and trials through the years. But in the end, it was worth it. My friend,
Sandy, told me last night what an honor for me to have this much grief. “You are grieving this much because you loved
him that much.”
To couples who are going through those hard years, fight for
your marriage. One day, God willing, you will be that old couple on the street
leaning on one another. People who see you will say, “What a cute old couple.
Look how much they love one another.”
In the end, all that is left is love.
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